Oblivious
by NeckerchiefsAreCool
Summary: Three times Arthur is oblivious to the troubles of his manservant and one time he isn't.
1. Chapter 1

**Oblivious**

Characters: Merlin, Arthur

Summary: Three times Arthur is oblivious to the troubles of his manservant and one time he isn't.

* * *

_"There was no answer, except the general answer life gives to all the most complex and insoluble questions. That answer is: one must live for the needs of the day, in other words, become oblivious."_

_Leo Tolstoy_, Anna Karenina

* * *

**"**Sire, I need to talk to you."

Arthur blew right past the servant. "Not now, Merlin, I don't have time for your rambling." He stopped, collapsing into the chair beside his desk. "A dragon! A bloody dragon," He muttered angrily, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

"Actually, Arthur, it's sort of about that -"

"How in the world has a bloody dragon been sighted!" Arthur slammed his fist on the table. "That's impossible! I killed the last one! I did! You told me I did!" He pointed grandly at Merlin to emphasize his point.

Merlin shifted, avoiding his eyes, "Yes, sire, I did say that."

"Well then how could someone have seen the -" He thought about what Merlin said and started over. "Yes, you did 'say that'. And I did, didn't I? I killed the dragon. Me. Dragon. Dead. It's dead. The dragon is dead! I took my spear and I killed it! I killed it!" It was here that the King of Camelot began resembling a spoiled teenager throwing a tantrum.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the king. "Arthur, you know as well as I do that only a dragonlord can slay a dragon."

Arthur's forehead knotted in confusion. "But then how did I slay the dragon? I'm not a dragonlord!"

Merlin held back a groan. "Yet the dragon must have been slain by a dragonlord. So either a dragonlord was there that slaid him, or he was not slain at all. On that note, I do have something rather important to tell you-"

Arthur gaped at him. "I'm a dragonlord?"

"No sire, I can assure you that you are not a dragonlord," Merlin forced between his teeth, an eye twitching in irritation.

Arthur stared at him for a long while.

Suddenly, he burst out in a giant grin. "But then I'm the exception! I slayed the dragon, and I'm not a dragonlord!" Arthur laughed giddily. "I am the exception to every rule, aren't I? I slayed the Afanc, I survived the Questing Beast, I braved the Perilous Lands and bested the Isle of the Blessed! Honestly, I'm just too good."

Merlin looked on in poorly concealed disbelief. "Incredible. Absolutely incredible."


	2. Chapter 2

_"It is harder to find that which is hidden then that which hides."_

* * *

This day, while no different from any other day in the kingdom of Camelot, had not started well.

Prince Arthur was in no fouler mood than any other morning - in fact, he rather thought he was being much kinder this day than any other. Merlin had shown up later than usual, pale and panting, breakfast thrown precariously onto the table, and Arthur hadn't thrown anything at the boy. When Merlin managed to knock out half of Arthur's clothing from inside the wardrobe, Arthur didn't scold him, only shot him a questioning glance, a snide remark on the boy's gangliness, and left it at that.

Even when the boy tripped and managed to spill the entire water jug over his chamber floor, the Prince contained himself to only shout at the boy, not throw his empty goblet at the idiot. (Although, to be quite honest, this was more out of concern than any other - not that the Prince would ever admit to such an emotion. He half expected Merlin to impale himself with a butter knife, the way things were going today.)

"Really, Merlin! What is wrong with you today? Have you no sense at all?" Arthur ranted as the boy in question nearly managed to fall down the staircase holding the prince's entire suit of armour.

"Sorry, sire," Merlin mumbled, focusing on the stairs.

Arthur looked more closely at his servant. Merlin was out of breath already, and the sheen over his pale skin did not bode well for his health. "Is everything all right? You're looking a bit pale."

Merlin shook off Arthur's concern. "Of course, Arthur, I'm fine."

Arthur looked at his servant closely. "Are you certain? Have you seen Gaius?"

"It's nothing, no reason to bother him," Merlin explained. At Arthur's disbelieving look, he said, "Really, Arthur, I'm fine."

Arthur said slowly, "You would tell me if you weren't feeling well, wouldn't you, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded. "Of course, Arthur."

And that was that.

Arthur clapped his hands together briskly, happy to change the subject. "Great, then! Try to keep up. We've got training this morning, so after that I need to have a bath before my meeting with my father. While I'm there, I need you to clean my chambers and polish my armour. Also, prepare me a bag for tomorrow's patrol and fetch my clothes from the tailor. Then you'll need to help me write a speech for next week's banquet. You also must repair my shield, wash my sheets..." The list went on and on.

And Merlin did as he was bade without complaint. And just as quietly he nursed his infected shoulder wound and upturned his breakfast into the bushes that afternoon. And even when Merlin collapsed cleaning his chambers, Arthur shouting at him for sleeping on the job, he offered no explanation.

So Arthur never noticed. So Merlin never told.


	3. Chapter 3

_"You know me, Merlin, I never listen to you."_

* * *

Merlin gasped at the sight of the monster. Gaius had told him it was horrid, but never, in his most terrible dreams, had he expected it to be this. Wings half its size, it had small limbs and a large head, its horns pointy and strong, the beast glared at them, growling in warning. It bared its teeth at him, terrible, razor sharp teeth and narrow eyes.

"You must be joking," Lancelot said.

Merlin could not help but agree.

"How do we stop it?" Arthur said, trying to put on his 'I am a seasoned warrior and none shall best me' expression with difficulty.

"Gaius said-" Merlin said, his voice high. He cleared his throat before trying again, "Gaius said that we just have to trap it in here." He pulled a small, run-engraved box. "Then it'll be forced into another realm."

The creature growled at them, and Merlin had to look away, biting his tongue.

"What do you suggest, sire?"

"I say," Here Arthur took a deep breath. "We charge it head-on. Overwhelm it as best we can."

Merlin looked grim, and Lancelot nodded assent. Arthur ordered, "On my count." The three men surrounded the beast slowly, trying not to startle it.

"One," Merlin shared a glance with Lancelot, who half-smiled encouragingly at him. Merlin knew the only _true_ way to force the creature into the box was with magic, making this mission all the more dangerous for him.

"Two..." Arthur slowly drew his sword, Merlin and Lancelot following suit. After seeing that all of them were in position, he cracked his neck and steeled himself with a nod. "Three!"

They charged.

With a squawk, the three inch tall faerie darted out of the mens' paths. Its eyes blinked dangerously on its tiny face, fragile winds flittering ominously. As Lancelot charged, it yelped in warning not to advance. This was not heeded.

"Lancelot!" Merlin cried as the blue creature, with a flick of bitty, twiggy fingers, hissed a short spell at the oncoming knight. Suddenly, Lancelot disappeared.

"What did you do with him?" Arthur demanded. The faerie twitched, making a sound that suspiciously resembled a laugh.

Merlin prowled where Lancelot had been standing only a few seconds before. There was no sign of him, just the open clearing. A bug flittered closeby Merlin, who absentmindedly waved it off.

With wide eyes, Arthur drew back. "Halt, fiend!" The prince commanded, using his Royal Pratness voice again. Merlin sighed at him, then waved the irritably bug off again.

The faerie hissed at them in an earbreaking frequency. The ladybug landed on Merlin's nose, wings twitching worriedly.

"Uh, Arthur?"

"Not now, Merlin," Arthur growled, leveling his sword at the beast.

"I think I've found Lancelot," Merlin said, reaching up a finger and tapping the ladybug. Lancelot glared, irate.

Arthur gaped. "You're kidding."

"I wish."

Arthur turned his attention back to the faerie, announcing boldly, "I order you to fix Lancelot right this instant."

The faerie looked on, unimpressed. Merlin shared his sentiments.

"Now," Arthur tried again. Merlin rolled his eyes with the ladybug, who fluttered onto his shoulder. Lancelot looked almost as irritated as the faerie, flittering his little wings. Hopefully, Arthur said, "Please?"

This was the last straw for the faerie. Suddenly the ladybug was joined by a beautiful, hot pink butterfly who somehow managed to look indignant even when it couldn't speak. The faerie turned to the last man, Merlin, who stepped back in fear.

(Purely by instinct, he swears. There was no way that Merlin Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth, was scared of a faerie. Not even this angry, flittering three inch terror with a horrible high pitched growl and really sharp-looking horns.)

Fine, so he was a little bit scared.

But not much! He definitely didn't let out a girlish scream. Neither did he trip over grass in his haste to get away from the faerie. And that was definitely not a tear that just fell. There was just something in Merlin's eye.

Honest.

"Arguwenti healpr meim!" Merlin shrieked, scuttling back frantically from his place on the ground. The faerie, with a fearsome roar, was sucked into the box, which slammed shut with a pleasant **snap**. Merlin then turned his attention to the agape ladybug and the horridly bright pink butterfly. "Theim faerie esgi me, makkig lagem!"

Merlin was quickly joined by an uncomfortable knight and a baffled prince. Arthur stuttered incoherently, staring at his manservant, who tried not to run away screaming. _I just used magic. I just used magic in front of Arthur. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm so dead._

* * *

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked easily, as though he did not just reveal his deepest, darkest, most magical secret, punishable by death, in front of the king of Camelot.

"We're fine, Merlin, thanks," Lancelot answered, tagging along with Merlin. They both looked at Arthur.

He ogled at the pair of them, face beet red. "I - buh- magic - you - sorcerer - I -"

"What?" Merlin schooled his expression into a look of bewilderment. "What are you on about now? Lance, do you know what he's talking about?" He asked Lancelot, who shot him a look that clearly said _don't-get-me-involved-in-this-Merlin-this-is-all-your-fault-why-did-you-have-to-use-magic-like-that-Merlin-you-reckless-fool-stop-looking-to-me-for-answers-you-never-used-to-be-so-reckless-you-really-must-learn-to-be-subtle-Merlin. _Despite this inner tirade, Merlin's secret-sharing friend acquiesced tightly, "I have no idea."

"You're- you're a sorcerer! You use magic!" Arthur stuttered, stunned.

Merlin stared, offended. "Arthur, you think I'm a sorcerer?"

Arthur was enraged, "Yes you are! Those were definitely magic spells! You were using magic!"

Merlin shook his head, eyes wide and innocent. "No they weren't, sire. I was speaking normal English, just like this."

"No you weren't!" Arthur shouted wildly, throwing his arms up, "Those were spells! You're a sorcerer!"

Before Merlin could say anything else, Lancelot spoke up. "Arthur, think about this logically."

"Logically?!" Arthur said furiously.

"Listen, sire, is it at all possible that you misunderstood?" Arthur just stared at him, uncomprehending. "I mean, you were turned into a butterfly. How do you know what he said was magic? Could you not just have been disoriented by the transformation. It is likely you didn't even know what was being said," He offered timidly, trying to ignore the glare set upon him.

"Do butterflies even have ears as such?" Merlin mused. "I don't even know if they _can_ hear. They have eyes, I know that, and wings of course, as well as a basic body, but do they have ears?" A realization: "What if that's what the antenaes do!"

Lance was intrigued. "Antenaes?"

Merlin grinned excitedly. "Yeah, the little antenae things sticking off of their foreheads! You know, those. Butterflies are so cute! Especially those daintly little - I mean," he corrected, feeling the deadly glare burning through him. "Butterflies aren't cute at all. They're very masculine, very masculine indeed."

"Do you mind?" Arthur said incredulously. "We were having a rather important discussion, in case you didn't realize. Or did you happen to see that _you're a bloody sorcerer_!"

"Arthur, I think you must have misunderstood," Lancelot soothed the livid man. "Ladybugs have excellent hearing, and I heard him loud and clear. That was most certainly not magic, sire."

Merlin quickly agreed, "Yeah, Arthur, you must have misheard." Merlin forced a laugh. "I mean, could I really be a sorcerer?"

Arthur stared at him dumbly, his eye twitching. Finally, to Merlin's great surprise, Arthur snickered. "That _is _a ridiculous thought, I must admit." He seemed to have wholeheartedly swallowed Lancelot's idea, hook, line, and sinker, without too much deep thought. Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder strongly, dutifully ignoring the half-relieved, half-broken expression on his manservant's face.

"I'm sorry I doubted you, Merlin," Arthur told him sincerely. Then he walked away, chuckling under his breath.

"Merlin, a sorcerer - ha!"


	4. Chapter 4

"I_ didn't want you to feel like you were alone."_

* * *

Merlin was always good at hiding his emotions - growing up, it was one of the first things he ever learned. How to hide, that is. It was one of the things that he truly excelled at and, he was happy to say, came in handy quite often. Paired with Arthur's uncanny ability to miss the truth even when it smacked him in the forehead, he was one of the best protected sorcerers in Camelot.

That's not to mention all the other things that Merlin neglected to inform Arthur. Assassination attempts, sorcerers, monsters, beasts, and who knows what else, they all manage to stay inside. And that's fine. In fact, that is the way Merlin likes it. It simply wouldn't do to have Arthur actually care about him on patrols, or making sure he's survived some magical attack, or for goodness sake, would it just kill him to say 'how are you, Merlin?'

But really, it's a good thing. Really.

The problem with penting up emotions, however, is just that. You don't get them out, you don't let them go. They just festered inside of you, demanding to be felt, eating straight through your heart so that there is a constant ache, a neverending pain just emenating from your soul. Memories are everywhere - in the grass that he died upon; in a father and his son in the market; in the rocks under which he once lived; in the armoury, glimmering swords, so like the one stuck through his chest. Each reminder was another crack in the dam protecting Merlin. There are only painful reminders of what could have been, the life they could have lived together, father and son. The only thing worse than remembering what had been, is wondering on what could have been.

Merlin had always grown up with this ideal vision of his father. He imagined a big, strong man with soft eyes, and powers like his. Merlin thought some day he would show up, and Merlin and Hunith and his father would live together happily until the end of his days. He eventually gave up this notion, preferring a dead father to one who would abandon his mother during her early pregnancy. But when he met Balinor... it was everything he ever imagined.

Okay, so the cave and the Dragonlord thing weren't exactly part of the plan, nor was that whole outlaw detail, and he could have really done without the hostility - but when he looked past all that, Merlin saw the man he always aspired to be. Strong in his convictions, in control of his magic, inspired by his magic, loving and kind-hearted. And then he was gone, just like that.

Finally, the dam broke under strain. His emotions came flowing over, exploding out of him in a dizzying display of grief. I'm sorry, father. I have failed you. I'm so, so sorry. Merlin hugs his knees into his chest, burying his head between them. Sobs erupt from his chest, which aches and cheers all at once. Merlin's entire body shook in his despair.

With a loud bang, the door to the king's chamber was suddenly thrown open. "MERLIN!" shouted Arthur. "I need my -"

Merlin rocketed to his feet, face wet and streaked with tears and embarrassment. Despite this, however, it is Arthur who reeled back in panic. Arthur's eyes widened, and he physically fought the overwhelming urge to run away.

"I-Sorry, sire," Merlin wiped at his eyes furiously, trying avidly to avoid the other man's gaze.

"It - uh, not to worry," Arthur said, clearly uncomfortable. An awkward silence developed, with Arthur's eyes darting around the room looking anywhere but Merlin, who wiped furiously at his eyes. This is to no avail, however; his eyes were puffy and red and bloodshot.

"What is it you needed, sire?" Merlin winced at the gravelly quality of his voice and the dryness in his throat.

Arthur shuffled his feet. "My armour. It, er - I need it for training." His discomfort was apparent as he struggled for words.

Merlin nodded, still refusing the king's eyes. That did not seem to bother Arthur; in fact, the prince was doing the same to Merlin. The raven-haired man saw the glimmer of metal poking out from behind a wardrobe beside Arthur's bed. Quietly, he went to retrieve it, still rubbing at his face. Internally, Merlin berated himself for falling apart - and in Arthur's room, no less! Of all places to have some sort of emotional breakdown, the king's chambers is the last place to do so.

"I, er- Sorry, Merlin, for, uh-" Arthur stuttered senselessly. "That's to say, I didn't expect - er -"

"Um, Merlin," the king cleared his throat. There is clearly something Arthur wanted to say, but he is having trouble putting it to words. Merlin grabbed hold of the armour and hefted it into his arms, which are still shaking. "Merlin. I know - erm - I know I don't often, you know, tell you these things," the king says awkwardly, "but I hope you know that you are - I mean, it's alright to - that is to say, you're - " He took a deep breath to organize his thoughts. Merlin still refused to look him in the eyes, even as he dropped the armour quietly onto the table.

"MerlinyouaremybestfriendandIhopeyouknowyoucanalwaystalktome," Arthur blurted in one breath. A loud exhale, then he pressed on, unrelenting. "If there's a problem, any kind of problem, I'll listen to you. Probably." Arthur reconsidered this. "Unless it's stupid, then I'll probably ignore it."

"But," he gets back on track, "I do hope you know I will, um, do my best. To help you, that is."

Merlin was left speechless at this declaration, and was more than a little embarrassed to find tears once more pooling in his eyes. He blinked (perhaps harder than strictly necessary) and said, "Arthur - I'm -"

Arthur shrugged, clearly still not entirely comfortable with the conversation. Merlin felt a surge of gratitude toward his friend. It took a lot out of Arthur to say those things, Merlin knew, and so to not only say them but to mean them... Merlin says only, "Thank you."

Arthur offered him that sort of half-smile, the one devoid of his usual cheekiness and egotism. Arthur slung an arm over Merlin's shoulder in a rare displays of affection, and the two walk out side by side.

"Your armour," Merlin says.

"Don't need it," Arthur replies easily, nudging Merlin.

* * *

"Eat with me."

"What?"

Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin's incredulous squawk. "Don't sound so surprised, Merlin, I can manage to fill my own glass. Just put the food on the table and sit down. I highly doubt you've eaten yet."

Merlin reluctantly complied, settling cheekily into a chair and resting his feet on the table. He had an eneasy feeling about the topic of discusion. To his own credit, he did not argue, and Arthur did not beat around the bush.

"So," said the king, nibbling on a piece of ham, "earlier. Do you want to tell me about that?"

"Not particularly, no," the servant quipped.

"Well that's too bad."

"No, that's you," Merlin mumbled, placing a few vegetables on his plate.

"What?"

"I said, 'that's true.'"

"Ah." Arthur looked suspicious. He refused to be distracted, though, so he let the matter slide. "You were upset about something."

"Very good, sire."

Getting annoyed at the banter, Arthur said, "What was it?"

Merlin grinned crookedly. "Are you worried about me, Arthur?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, immediately retorting, "Don't be stupid, Merlin. I'm just nervous about the state of my chambers. On a good day it looks like it were cared after by a half-blinded minotaur, I'd hate to see what would happen if - but don't change the topic, you idiot. Are you hurt, did someone say something. . . ."

"No one offended me, Arthur, I just . . . it's fine. Let it go."

"Merlin," Arthur shook his head in exasperation. "I don't care if I've hurt your womanly pride, just tell me what's wrong so I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Really, Arthur, don't bother, it's - "

"Merlin! Stop being such a insufferable moron and just tell me what's bloody wrong!" Arthur snapped.

Merlin choked on his broccoli in shock, and Arthur, despite his anger at the younger man, couldn't help rolling his eyes. _He can't even eat a vegetable without somehow managing to hurt himself. Unbelievable._ After only a few moments, Merlin managed to swallow the offending food and his face returned to his flushed alabaster tone. Still, the king's exclamation had put Merlin into a state of perpetual shock and he could not manage to form words for a long stretch of time.

Finally, Merlin swallowed thickly, a decision clearly made. Arthur leaned forward subconsciously, seeing the decision settle into his features, his brows creased and his gaze dropped. His hands fiddled with the silverware on the table. "I, er - last year, the Great Dragon was defeated."

This, Arthur knew. As the King, he was expected to honor all the losses of the attack, and he made a speech to the public just that day. His speech was vague and unspecific about the cause of the many souls who were lost to the beast, but nonetheless he spoke of their bravery and their greatness. The dragon was dead, now, so the losses were honored in the death of the monster. What this has to do with Merlin, Arthur didn't know, but he knew better than to interrupt just when the servant was finally opening up.

Merlin looked at the door, hazily considering just sprinting out of the interrogation. "My father was killed during the attacks."

His father.

Arthur remembered asking Merlin about him once, sometime last year. Merlin just stiffened and clammed up in that annoying loquacious manner. All "I only really met him for a few days" and "he really didn't have a choice but to leave my mother" but not much else useful in the jabbering. Arthur could hear the pride in Merlin's voice, though, to call this man his father. He knew how hard it was for Merlin to truly admire someone, and the fact that this man left Merlin without a father and his mother without a wife should have automatically disqualified him. Arthur remembers thinking, he must be a remarkable man.

_No man is worth your tears._

Oh gods, what had Arthur said to him? Merlin should have been in mourning, should have been with his mother in Ealdor, grieving the loss of his father. Never mind crying - Merlin deserved to shed for his father. But instead he was with Arthur, tracking down a Dragonlord, not getting the chance to lament the man. It explained so much about Merlin's sensitivity during the trip.

_... so I know we can't be friends..._

And Merlin's moodiness during the journey home! Merlin was soft-hearted on a normal day, but to see a man's life extinguished before his eyes, even the Dragonlord's, Merlin would naturally be hurt and reminded of his father. Arthur was painfully reminded of the terrible night he had after his father had passed. He had felt so, alone, so shaken when Uther was gone. Then to walk outside the next morning to find Merlin, as tired and as sorrowful as Arthur himself. It reminded Arthur that he was never alone, not when he had such a great man, such a great friend by his side.

"Merlin, I . . . " Arthur tried weakly. Merlin cut him off.

He shook his head. "You don't need to say anything, Arthur. I'm - it's fine."

"No, Merlin, it's not," Arthur disagreed hotly. "I know that you are falsely under the impression that you can keep these things internalized, but you can't. I know you, Merlin, and I know that you are absolutely horrendous at keeping any kind of secret to yourself. Listen to me, Merlin: if anything like this happens again, I must know."

"Why?"

It would be so easy to lie, to say, _you are legally under my employ, you must do as you are told._ To order the idiot, and just explain that he needed to know for this or that, for working papers or days off or just because, dammit. But Merlin did not need a King or a boss, but a brother.

"Because you are my friend," Arthur told Merlin, honesty burning his eyes. "You are my friend, and I care about your welfare. Both physical and otherwise."

Merlin nodded, eyes glistening suspiciously.

Arthur nodded too.

And that was all they needed to say.


End file.
